Heat rushes to my face, and I look over at Braden, talking through tears, terrified his girlfriend will run screaming once she sees him in all his fleshy splendor.

“Yeah, right. Boys are off the table for me.”

Piper cocks her eyebrow.

“So Dr. Sharp will be the last man to ever see you naked? I hope it was as good for him as it was for you.”

“Okay, now you’re just being disgusting.”

“Hey, a girl could do a lot worse than Dr. Sharp and his bang-worthy dimples,” Piper says. “I’m simply suggesting you shouldn’t shut the door on boys so quickly.”

“And I’m just saying that door has already been shut.”

I don’t even know why we’re talking about this, especially when we need to be talking about why Piper let me walk blindly into a theater run by her newly minted archnemesis.

Piper pretends to write on her palm with an imaginary pencil, her face mockingly somber.

“Now would you say that living a life of virginal celibacy is your biggest fear?” She says this last word extra loud. Dr. Layne smiles, satisfied we’re discussing our deepest, darkest terrors.

“Right now? My biggest fear is Kenzie King, your ex–best friend.”

Piper drops her hands along with her smile.

“Who told you?”

“Asad.” I don’t mention my social media stalking.

“That kid should mind his own business.”

“Is it true?

“Yes.”

“How is that even possible?”

Piper shrugs, and for the first time since I’ve known her, she avoids meeting my eye.

“I don’t really want to talk about this. We were friends. Now we’re not. End of story.”

“Yes, but why are you not friends? She clearly hates me because I’m friends with you. You can’t send me into a mean-girl massacre without at least some intel.”

Piper’s nostrils flare as she points her finger at me.

“Being friends doesn’t give you the right to snoop around in my past.”

Her voice rises as the conversations around us stall and all eyes shift to Piper, frantically trying to wheel her chair away from me. She rams another chair, a sharp, metallic sound piercing the circle as the chair’s legs intertwine with her spokes.

“Piper, why are you freaking out?”

She wrestles her wheels free and answers without looking at me.

“Because I don’t want to talk about it. Because I don’t want to think about it. Of all people, you should understand that.”

By this point, Dr. Layne is walking toward us.

“Girls, is there a problem?”

“Everything’s fine!” Piper says, finally detangling the chair from her own wheelchair. She half throws it out of her way and abruptly backs away from Layne and out of the circle.

“It’s therapy—everything’s always fine, right?” Piper says.

“Now, Piper, I just—”